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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27838717">Chopsticks and Cleavers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpeace/pseuds/justpeace'>justpeace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AskWooster Podcast!AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Jeeves &amp; Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bertie hones his chopstick skills, Chinese Food, Fluff, M/M, Meet the Family, Meet the Wong-Jeeveses, gratuitous descriptions of chinese food, sibling torture in the form of revealing the most embarrassing parts of one's youth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:42:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27838717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpeace/pseuds/justpeace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertie meets the Wong-Jeeves family, which goes as well as can be expected. Reg doesn't die of embarrassment, but it is a close thing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AskWooster Podcast!AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993957</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In which Jiang Ayi sets a challenge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I couldn't leave well enough alone, so here we are. Hoping to finish this up over the next few weeks, maybe add another story about their first date eventually, we shall see! If you haven't read the previous work in this series, then I'm not sure what to tell you but this may not make sense. This is my J/W Modern!AU, where Reg Jeeves is a therapist and Bertie is a podcaster. Not beta'd because I am a hermit</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jiang Ayi smacked my chopsticks with her own abruptly, causing one of them to fall on the ground. “Ey! Bertie! You cannot get distracted while we do this!” </p><p>“Sorry,” I mumbled, fishing around on the floor for the missing chopstick. Jiang Ayi was faster, however, and plucked it up with one hand while she handed me a second, clean chopstick with her other hand, her eyes never leaving the iPad, like a magician.</p><p>With my halfly refreshed chopsticks, I restarted the task of transferring beans from one bowl to another. I had thought myself a decent hand at the utensils until Mrs. Jiang devised this fiendish chopstick olympics for me to practice before meeting Reg’s family. </p><p>“There’s this nice young man who goes to eat dim sum I watch on the youtube,” Jiang Ayi explained, queuing up the video. “It will help me explain the dishes so you know what you are getting into. Too hard to cook them all for you.” </p><p>I nodded, having managed to triumphantly lift a bean from the bowl only to have it flip out of the chopsticks as though doing bean gymnastics. </p><p>“You have to have a better grip on the chopstick so you can have lighter grip on the bean.” Jiang Ayi pointed out, gesturing again with her chopsticks to the relevant parts of my hand. She was eating her dinner, which she had promised to share with me once I had completed my trials. </p><p>“I appreciate the effort you’re putting into training, but I hardly think I’ll have to eat uncooked beans tomorrow.” I said, nevertheless adjusting my grip to try and take her advice. </p><p>“You came to me too late,” she scoffed. “I could have been working on you like this for weeks! This is just to help your dexterity so you don’t embarrass me.” Jiang Ayi chuckled as if imagining the more intensive trials she could be putting me through, and turned on the video.</p><p>A broad-shouldered Asian man explained to me and Jiang Ayi that he was about to embark upon a “dim sum adventure” of the utmost importance. </p><p>“You’ll eat anything, Bertie?” Jiang Ayi asked, peering at me skeptically over her specs. </p><p>“I think so,” I responded. “There’s a few things I’ve tried I wouldn’t particularly love to see on my plate again but I like to think this Wooster has an open mind.” </p><p>“Good,” she said. She then proceeded to point at various dishes on the iPad screen, explaining what they were and how likely it would be for the Wong-Jeeves family to order them. I’d encountered about half of them before, which I felt was promising.</p><p>“This one is spare ribs,” Jiang Ayi explained. “Very good, make sure you take some if they order. But don’t order for yourself- let the parents order. It’s very rude to order as a guest unless they tell you to.” </p><p>I placed my third bean gently in the designated transfer bowl, wondering if Jiang Ayi had specific reasons to think me a very rude boy, or if she was simply used to explaining common decency to anyone. I had come over to her flat to watch an episode of Bake Off over dinner originally, mentioned that I was somewhat nervous about going to dim sum with Reg’s family tomorrow, and before you could say “shu mai” Jiang Ayi had sat me down with the pair of chopsticks and bowl of beans. </p><p>“If I get five beans in, is that good enough practice?” I asked, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. But I was famished.</p><p>Jiang Ayi eyed my grip. “Six. And you use chopsticks to eat.” She said firmly. </p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of eating with anything else,” I said, although I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever make it to six beans. I flexed my hand and went back to it. Did hands need calisthenics,  I wondered? Were there classes for this?</p><p>“If they get sticky rice like this you have to pick up big mound at once to eat. Or use spoon,” Jiang Ayi explained. </p><p>I’d made it to four beans! I briefly felt like a champion. I watched Jiang Ayi eat her dinner and noticed she was using more of a scooping motion rather than trying to get anything in between her chopsticks. Could I do that with the beans as well? I considered my attack, once more unto the breach and all that, and used a shoveling motion to great effect, collecting three more beans that I triumphantly transferred to the other bowl. One fell off, but I decided that was an inevitable loss of the battlefield. </p><p>“Aha!” I cried. “Six!” </p><p>Jiang Ayi laughed and motioned for me to stay and watch the video while she made me a bowl. I watched the young man, whose name I learned was Mike, eat a frankly enormous amount of dim sum. </p><p>I received a bowl of food just as Mike polished off his last dumpling, gushing about the shrimpy flavor. </p><p>“Thank you for sharing your dinner with me,” I said, because I was suddenly very invested in Jiang Ayi’s perception of my politeness. </p><p>“You are my nephew now,” Jiang Ayi explained. “I can’t let you use chopsticks poorly in front of other Asians. Too much dishonor.” She smirked as she said it, so I was fairly certain she was joking. </p><p>My phone vibrated, several times in succession, and with Jiang Ayi’s raised eyebrow of permission I took it out to check my texts. </p><p>Reg!!: As it turns out we will be meeting at my parent’s home tomorrow, as my father would like to cook for us instead.</p><p>Reg!!: I hope the change is not too much of an inconvenience.</p><p>Reg!!: I will not be able to accompany you but I will be there when you arrive. I will send you the address.</p><p>“Oh,” I said, looking through the texts again, to see if I’d somehow been mistaken. “I won’t be going to dim sum tomorrow after all.” </p><p>Jiang Ayi read the texts over my shoulder and patted my back sympathetically. “Meet the parents on their home turf?” She asked, her voice skeptical. “Sorry, Bertie.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Wooster meets the fam</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nothing quite like your family to help you time travel back to a time when you were more easily embarrassed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reg greeted me outside his parents’ bungalow with a warm hug and a sweet kiss, which did much in the way of quelling the nervous fizzing in my belly. He was wearing one of my favorite sweaters, burgundy with navy stripes, and about the jazziest thing in his wardrobe.</p><p>“You’re going to be fine,” he said with a smile. I didn’t feel like I was going to be fine. I felt like I always do where most family functions are concerned; somewhere between being thrown to the wolves and being fed to the lions. No matter the option, there’s still the distinct likelihood of getting bitten by a wild animal.</p><p>“I don’t suppose your father’s making dim sum?” I asked, throwing out my final lifeline of hope that my preparation (and Jiang Ayi’s hard work) had been helpful. </p><p>Reg chuckled, leading me by the hand toward the front door. “Most dim sum dishes aren’t things we make at home. I hope you won’t be disappointed by noodles instead.” </p><p>“No! I--no I’m sure the noodles will be delightful,” I said, realizing that further explanation would reveal exactly how much I’d prepared for this meeting. I still wasn’t sure if it was too much or too little.</p><p>I saw the door open and Violet stepped out, looking very artist-like in a dark tank dress. “Bertie!!” she grinned as she hugged me. “What are you doing here? And where’s--” she stopped, wearing an expression I could only call “boggled.” </p><p>Beside me, Reg stiffened as his sister’s expression darkened toward him like an oncoming summer storm. “Reggie,” she said through gritted teeth, “Is Bertie our guest today?”</p><p>I wasn’t sure what could possibly add to the conversation, so I stayed silent with an uncertain smile as Reg took on his stuffed frog expression. </p><p>“You must be Bertie!!” I was saved by Reg’s mother; a tall woman with salt and pepper hair. I could see a resemblance to Reg in the cheekbones and chin, but mainly she looked like an older Violet.</p><p>“Hello!” I chirped before getting enveloped in another hug from a Jeeves family member. To be honest, I hadn’t expected Reg’s family to be huggers, but it simply goes to show that one can’t make blanket assumptions about one’s boyfriend’s family based on one’s boyfriend’s weird hangups vis-à-vis hugging near strangers.</p><p>“Reggie hasn’t told us very much about you so we were delighted to hear you were coming over,” she explained over the rising sound of Violet berating Reg. </p><p>“Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything??”</p><p>“I did tell you-” </p><p>“Bollocks, all you had to do was give me the smallest amount of notice, just ‘Oh Vy, remember Bertie who was very helpful at the gala, that’s my BOYFRIEND-” </p><p>As Reg’s mother (Mrs. Jeeves? Mrs. Wong Jeeves?) led me further from the arguing siblings, she pointed out a few childhood photos of Reg on the way. “This one is from when he won the primary school prize for excellence at maths.”  In the photo, there was an adorably chubby-cheeked Reg, already doing that uncomfortable fake smile I recognized as one of his go-to expressions. I briefly wondered if anyone would notice if I stole the photo on my way out, but Reg’s mother led me into the kitchen before I was able to strategize further. </p><p>“And this is Daddy Jeeves,” she said, and before I could process the shock of the phrase Daddy Jeeves I was being hugged by a man who looked almost exactly like a sixty year old version of my boyfriend. </p><p>“Glad you could come by,” Older Reg said warmly, and I nearly breathed a sigh of relief at the fact he didn’t sound like Reg. “You can call me Sam, by the way,” he added with a grin. </p><p>“And Reggie didn’t introduce me, how rude! I’m Lucy,” Reg’s mother patted me on the shoulder warmly.</p><p>Short of anything else to offer to the convo, I remembered the bag of oranges in my satchel. “I brought fruit?” </p><p>“Lovely!” Lucy chirped. “Let me put them out in the sitting room,” she said, whisking them away. She moved in that shimmery way Reg did, I noticed. </p><p>“Well lad, you want to help with lunch?” Sam asked, and I found myself nodding. I wondered vaguely where Reg had got to as I no longer heard Violet telling him off. </p><p>As I found a place for my bag and washed my hands, Sam explained to me that he would be making a number of dishes for lunch, including hand-pulled noodles and a few stir fried vegetables from his garden. </p><p>“We’ve been growing veg like crazy this summer, and it made more sense to have you kids over to eat it than go out.” </p><p>I nodded in agreement as if I knew anything about vegetable growth in any season. </p><p>“Think you’d be able to do some chopping today?” Sam asked, brandishing a cleaver the size of my head. </p><p>“Bertie, there you are.” Reg said, looking chastised and slightly out of breath as he laid a hand on my shoulder in the same place his mother had a few moments ago. “Dad, you’re not making him help with the cooking are you? I told you I’d do that.” </p><p>Sam grinned. “And yet there you were having a nice long chat with your sister instead, and your young man very kindly offered to give us a hand--” </p><p>“I don’t mind!” </p><p>“There you are, then, Reggie, everyone can help with the cooking.” Sam smiled, spinning the cleaver in a way that, were I ever to attempt it, would result in at least one finger lost, and likely other casualties. “We’ve got a lot to prep.” </p><p>“It’s fine, Reg. You know I’ll have fun cooking.” I said, and gave Reg a kiss on the cheek, which made him blush. It occurred to me we hadn’t talked about what was appropriate in front of the fam, but hopefully my ‘they’ll need to get over it at some point’ approach would be fine. </p><p>“You boys will help me get everything ready in no time,” Sam added. He looked slightly uncomfortable, which I could only tell because he looked a bit like Reg when he’s being asked a question he doesn’t know the answer to. </p><p>“Is Violet all right?” I asked, commencing the task of chopping a courgette with a less murdery looking knife than the one Sam held.</p><p>“She’s fine, she’s just...upset I neglected to tell her who you were.” </p><p>“You didn’t!” I gasped. </p><p>“I didn’t mean to,” Reg sounded defensive. “I thought--I forgot she didn’t know. Everything happened so quickly at the event that I didn’t remember the exact timeline. When I invited her to come today I told her I’d bring my boyfriend. I thought she knew that was you already, so I didn’t specify.” </p><p>“And when she saw me she didn’t put two and two together because she figured you’d have said something?” </p><p>“Yes,” Reg sighed, snapping the ends off of what looked like spinach vines and what I later learned were pea tendrils (Woosters are not born gardeners or generally a horticultured people, it must be said). </p><p>“No harm done,” Sam chuckled. “She’s on a short fuse these days because she’s trying to coordinate moving to London for uni. I’m sure she’ll be back to help in a bit once she’s cooled down.” </p><p>“She’s fine, Dad,” Violet announced, signaling her arrival. She looked at me and sighed. “For a smart guy, my brother is so dense sometimes, Bertie. I’m sorry you have to date him but I’m glad to see you.” </p><p>I laughed. “No harm done, Violet. I’m glad you didn’t murder him; I quite like having him around.” </p><p>Violet laughed, “That’s cute. I’m glad you put up with him,” she said, elbowing Reg in the side. He winced but didn’t comment otherwise, which was how I could tell he felt guilty. </p><p>“Ah, your brother’s quite wonderful most of the time, so it isn’t hard.” I said with a grin. I was still chopping up courgettes so I couldn’t watch Reg and his sister as I continued, “Just last week, he brought me to his rugby team’s social and--” </p><p>“Thank you, Bertie, for standing up for me but I’m sure my sister and father don’t need to hear any more on the subject,” Reg said, his cheeks slightly red. Was he getting embarrassed? By this point I had seen a lot of different sides of Reg, but this was a new one. </p><p>Violet seemed to have picked up on it too, as she was grinning at her brother fiercely. “You know, Bertie, he stayed over last night so he could help clean to get the house ready for you?” </p><p>“Very sweet, if a little insulting. I told him we didn’t need to polish the silver,” Sam added. </p><p>It was then I was treated to the sight of Reginald Jeeves, licensed therapist, calmest man I know, rolling his eyes. His family, it seemed, brought out the resentful teenager in my 30 year old boyfriend.</p><p>This was it; this was the best day of my life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've got probably another chapter to go in this fic, and then a few more stories that I'm working on for these guys that I hope to finish up soonish. Comments are appreciated, and thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Gonna go ahead and dedicate this chapter to strictlydumpling's youtube channel because I have spent half the pandemic straight up just watching this dude eat things and it has been immensely satisfying.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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